Home
by obliquedge
Summary: Draco is looking for his home. Where does he really belong? He searches for his home while Hermione finds him and helps him along. Oneshot DHr.


Disclaimer: How many times do I need to say that I don't own Harry Potter or the gorgeous Draco Malfoy?

Summary: Draco is looking for his home. He recalls all the places he used to call home, wondering if he'll ever find a new home again. D/Hr.

A/N: This story is written in a different style, sort of like an autobiography, yet not quite. Please drop a nice little review to tell me what you think. :D Also, I really think that 'Home' is a humongously cheesy title! Anyone have any better ideas? I may change the title if I'm not too lazy(:

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**Home**

_Where is home?_ Draco Malfoy's number one philosophical question was about where he belonged. No, it wasn't _Who am I? _or _Why am I here?_ Because all Draco Malfoy wanted to know was where he could run to in those dangerous times.

Draco knew exactly who he was. He was the only heir to a huge Malfoy fortune, and though he had spent the first few years of his life believing that he was nothing but yet another Malfoy, Draco now knew better. He was a strong individual, stronger that he had been brought up to seem. Draco would be whoever he wanted to be, and in this case, he wanted nothing to do with the Dark Arts. That was not say he was turning good. No, Draco wanted to remain in neutral ground, and the most neutral ground Draco could think of was Gringott's.

So Draco Malfoy worked in Gringott's after graduating. But there was this whole issue of the war, and then Draco started wondering about his purpose in life. Surely it was something more than simply continuing the Malfoy line, because Draco wasn't really thinking about procreating just yet.

Then he met Hermione Granger, on a Ministry mission to Gringott's for some supposed 'Top Secret Business'. Personally, Draco couldn't care less what she was at Gringott's for. The only thing that irked him was the fact that Hermione had just invaded his personal space. Gringott's was neutral ground! She was on the good side, and hence was _persona non grata_ at Gringott's.

Now, Draco was not one to beat around the bush, so he told her to get lost. When he mentioned this 'neutral ground' theory, however, he was laughed at. Hermione rolled her eyes and said, "This is war, Malfoy. There is no fence for you to sit on, because that would have been destroyed. And if you don't move to one side or another, your sorry arse is going to get burnt."

Then she left, and Draco decided that she was – once again – right.

He joined the Order, much to the surprise of everyone he knew, including himself. But perhaps Draco knew, deep inside him, that he'd always had a spark of good in him. No one was born evil, he said to himself one wintry morning as the war began to wane. Not even his father; not even Voldemort. Draco was just lucky to be saved from going down the path so many Dark Wizards had taken. And while Draco said that it was purely because he had been born into the era where he could see for himself how terrible it was when Voldemort came into power, he secretly knew that he owed his redemption to the Golden Trio. Or rather, one bushy-haired member of the trio.

As the war ended, and Harry Potter was declared the saviour of the wizarding – and Muggle, though the Muggles didn't know that – world, Draco left the Order and returned to his post in Gringott's. That was when he started thinking about his home. Or rather, his lack thereof.

When Lucius and Narcissa had been killed in the final battle, Draco had shed more than just a tear, and he was not ashamed of that fact. While he would never condone so many of the things they did, they were still his parents. Lucius was harsh, cold and brutal, but he had been the fatherly figure that Draco had come to admire when he was little. And Narcissa, oh dear Narcissa. Draco loved her more than anything, even if she was a stuck-up woman and often did not dare to show her love for Draco. They were his parents, and Draco would never wish them dead.

The fact remained that they were, and Draco took comfort in the fact that they had been spared the eternal torture of Azkaban. But now that they were gone, Draco no longer had a home. The Malfoy Manor may have been cold and cruelly empty, even when the entire family was home – which was rare enough, as it was – but it was still Draco's home. It had never been a very homely sort of home, but Draco's family lived there, and there was comfort in the knowledge that the people he loved were living there with him, even if they didn't know how to love him.

Now all Draco had was an empty house. A house so large that whispers would echo, but tears would be completely silent.

Bitterly, Draco remembered that there once was a time when he had a real home to return to. His seven years at Hogwarts were probably the worst when compared to all the happy times his schoolmates were experiencing. Draco spent his years bullying everyone, looking down on everyone, and generally living a very depressing existence. But he was free in Hogwarts, and he was happy.

Draco could spend hours reading, or playing Quidditch, and he'd never need to explain to anyone why he was not practicing some evil magic in his father's dungeon. Draco could even crack the occasional smile at his fellow Slytherin friends without getting the first degree from his father.

Yes, Draco had friends! There was this problem with the fact that he also had a lot of enemies, and the fact that his so-called friends were probably all dirty, under-handed back-stabbers, but they were his friends, and Draco would always remember them as that. They all knew what it was like to feel like they never belonged anywhere, to feel like everything they believed in was questionable yet not daring to question any of it. And while Draco never confided in his friends, Pansy could give him an understanding nod, Blaise could pat him on the back silently, Crabbe and Goyle could goof around with their food, and Draco would feel better.

Then there was Dumbledore. The old man that Draco claimed to detest was one of the key reasons that Draco missed his Hogwarts days so acutely. Dumbledore had given him chances, so many chances, and Draco appreciated every single one of them. When the world turned his back on him, Dumbledore would look into his eyes and say his name. And with those two syllables, Draco would carry the weight of Dumbledore's trust on his shoulders and do his best to prove that he was not going to make the same mistake so many wizards before him had made.

Draco cried on Graduation Day.

Draco had felt a sort of dull ache for the days leading up to the last day he would spend as a student in Hogwarts, but he dismissed this as his eagerness to enter the world. Then, on the actual day, everything had come rushing back to him. This was his last day at Hogwarts. He would never be able to live like he had spent the past seven years living.

And Draco felt instantly puking.

So while everyone laughed, cried and embraced, Draco fled to the bathroom. He passed a couple making out behind a pillar, and they stared at him. But all it took was a glare of Draco's and they ignored him again. Draco escaped into the nearest toilet and collapsed against the sink, breaths ragged and difficult as he felt the lump that had been building up in his throat rise up.

The next thing he knew, Draco was leaning over the sink, letting his tears mingle with the freezing cold water he was splashing over his face. It was in that moment that Draco decided that all he wanted was to be caught somewhere in the middle. After all, Hogwarts was a sort of middle ground, wasn't it? The saints like Potter and Granger studied here, yet so did future Death Eaters like him.

And in that split second, Draco made the first important of his life. Not only was he going to move into middle ground, he was also not going to become a Death Eater. In his spite and desperate need to prove everyone wrong, Draco decided that he would not become a Death Eater. And that decision saved his life, even if it alienated him from the only home he had left – the Malfoy Manor.

For close to ten years of his life, Draco was a wanderer. He cooped himself up in an apartment in the middle of Diagon's Alley, missing home and hoping that all the hustle and bustle would make up for not having a home to return to.

Hogwarts was no longer there for him, and the Malfoy Manor no longer welcomed him. And even though Draco refused to admit it, he missed the Malfoy Manor so intensely that it hurt to even think about it. He had grown up there, and he missed the familiarity of that place.

And so that brings us back to where we were. _Where is home?_

Draco had always thought he was a very smart wizard, and perhaps he was. But he was quite stupid as a person, wandering lonely as a cloud in search of his home.

They say that, in order to find something, you need to stop looking.

Just as Draco had given up hope of ever finding his home, Hermione Granger waltzed back into his life. One humid summer afternoon a year after the end of the war, there was a knock on his apartment door. Draco looked up from his book and walked leisurely over to the door. As it swung open, Draco was met with the sight of Hermione Granger standing right outside his door, dressed in a simple peasant's blouse and a tweed skirt.

Funny, he'd never pegged Hermione as a tweed kind of person.

"What brings you here?" he asked flatly.

"Aren't you going to invite me in?" asked Hermione, not answering his question. While Draco contemplated if would be too rude to reply that he wasn't about to invite her in, Hermione brushed past him and swept into the living room, leaving Draco standing by the door, slightly stunned by the idea that _Hermione Granger_ was in his flat.

Draco shut the door firmly and stared at Hermione, who had sat herself on the couch. "Let me repeat my question," he said. "What brings you here?"

Shrugging, Hermione replied, "Do you have anything to drink?"

Gritting his teeth, Draco stalked over to the kitchen and grabbed a soda out of the fridge, before stalking back to Hermione and holding the drink out to her. He hadn't met her in ages, but it turned out she was just as annoying as she had always been. During his days in the Order, she had bossed him around, knowing very well that he couldn't pick a fight since he was still on 'probation' as to whether or not he really belonged in the Order.

"Why, thank you," said Hermione cheerfully. She took a small sip, then glanced up at Draco, who was standing in front of her, glowering. "Well, what are you standing there for?" she asked. "Sit down." She patted the seat next to her. Too stunned by the fact that he was being asked to sit down in his own house, Draco was speechless. He sat down mutely.

After a moment of silence in which Hermione sipped her soda without saying a word, Draco could stand it no longer. "Why the hell are you here?" he exclaimed, turning to face her. It was unnerving enough to have someone in his house, because Draco was a loner who had gotten so used to living in his own little bubble, not to mention the fact that the person seated in his room was Hermione Granger. Of all people, the first person to step foot into his house had to be Hermione Granger.

Hermione smirked. "Why, I thought you'd never ask," she said serenely, and it took all of Draco's self-control not to lose his temper. Did Hermione delight in tormenting him or something? "I think you know that Pansy and Ron have been dating," Hermione began, but her words almost made Draco choke.

"Pansy and Weasley?" he spluttered. "You must be joking."

As Hermione placed the bottle of soda on the table, she replied, "I most certainly am not joking, Malfoy. I thought you would have noticed, seeing as how they started going out only because you convinced Pansy to join the Order."

Draco goggled at her. "You mean I was a matchmaker?" he asked incredulously.

Hermione nodded. "Which is why Pansy and Ron both want you to be the best man," she added calmly, almost making Draco choke again.

"Best man?" he repeated. "Are they getting married?"

Hermione sighed to herself. "I keep forgetting that you haven't been in contact with any of us ever since the war ended," she muttered. "Hell, you barely even spoke while you were in the Order." Heaving an enormous breath, she continued, "So, the wedding is in a month. Can you turn up as the best man?"

"Why not Potter? Why the last-minute notice?" asked Draco, his voiced dripping with hostility. "And why isn't Pansy here to ask me herself?"

By now, Hermione was looking rather exasperated. "Because," she said snappishly, "Harry is already married, and Pansy is adamant about some custom that the best man and maid-of-honour have to be unmarried. And you've been missing in action for the past year. I only knew you were here after begging the people at Gringott's for their employee information file. Pansy isn't here because she asked me to come and look for you."

"Why?" Draco asked again, deciding not to have yet another choking fit over the new knowledge that Harry was married, presumably to Ginny, and Hermione narrowed her eyes. Draco could tell that she was counting to ten mentally, and Draco relished in the thought that he was getting his payback. Also, it was exceedingly fun to torment Hermione by being as annoying as possible.

Hermione frowned. "Because I'm Pansy's friend and the maid-of-honour," she snapped. "So you jolly well turn up there."

Surprisingly, this thought cheered Draco up. So Hermione wasn't married, and they'd be walking down the aisle together. Well, not as the actual couple getting married, but close enough.

With a smirk, Draco made the second big decision of hi life and replied, "All you had to do was ask."

And with that one sentence, Draco had thrown himself into the centre of the flurry of wedding preparations. Pansy stressed out on a daily basis about the colour of the pace settings or flowers for the floral arrangement, and Hermione went completely ballistic trying to settle the seating plans. Ron and Harry argued over which tuxedo Pansy would like better, until Ginny cleverly told them to ask Pansy in person. It turned out that she already had one in mind, which Ron declared 'perfect'.

The strangest thing was that Draco found comfort in all this chaos. Finally, he belonged here, with this newly-found, tightly-knit group of friends that accepted him easily, as if he had never turned his back on them and fled to some flat in the corner of Diagon Alley.

In the month that led up to the wedding, Draco felt truly happy – happier than he had ever felt in his life. Finally, the wedding day arrived, and it passed without much trouble. Well, except for the fact that Pansy almost had a coronary when she realised that she didn't have something blue out of 'something new, something borrowed, something blue', which was exactly what Draco thought was a silly rhyme.

But that didn't stop him from running two streets down to get Pansy a blue hairpin that actually matched her dress. And it was all worth it when Hermione smiled at him kindly when he returned, out of breath, as if that was the sweetest thing he had ever done. Knowing Draco, it probably was.

Then the bouquet had fallen into Hermione's lap even though she hadn't been one of the eager females vying to catch it, Pansy had winked at her as she passed, and the wedding ceremony was officially over.

As he watched Ron and Pansy on a broom ride off into the distance, Draco smiled genuinely, happiness overwhelming him. Hermione nudged him, tears glistening in her eyes and the bouquet in her hand. "When did you get so sappy?" she asked, and Draco wiped his eyes instinctively, surprised to find that they were a little damp. With a light laugh, Hermione had walked away.

But while Draco had found his place with his friends, he still had no home. Everyday, as he returned to his flat, dread overcame him. It was not home, and it would never be. And each day, Draco missed the Malfoy Manor, and he missed his family.

No one ever said finding home was easy. But it helps when there's someone there to help you along.

A few months later, Hermione brought up the topic of Malfoy Manor. It was common knowledge that the manor had been left empty for ages after the war, but no one had dared ask him why, for fear of incurring Draco's wrath. Hermione was obviously not afraid of Draco.

"Don't you miss it?" Hermione asked. "Isn't it your home?"

And while Draco knew the answer to this question, that he missed it but it would never be his home until he had a family there, he shook his head and said that he did not miss that place. And because they were really good friends, and Hermione would be expecting more than that as an answer, Draco rambled on about how the place was a cold, unfeeling prison. And Draco sighed. A cold, unfeeling prison that he loved, missed, and wanted to return to.

Draco had either underestimated Hermione's intelligence, or the depth of their friendship, because she smiled at him and replied, "Don't worry. You will have a family, someday." And that was the end of the conversation.

But not for long. A month later, during a gathering at Pansy and Ron's new place, Hermione and Draco found themselves seated on the balcony alone. And Draco knew what was coming.

"You know," Hermione said, swirling the red wine in her glass around, "if you want a family, you have to take the initiative to look for one." She smiled at Draco cryptically. "And all you need to do is ask."

The conversation was heading in a direction that Draco was not at all comfortable with, and so he quickly turned it around, asking her in return if she had met any guys, and if she was planning on fulfilling the expectations thrown upon her to get married by the fact that she had caught the bouquet.

Somehow, this topic seemed to annoy Hermione, and she replied that she was exasperated by guys before storming off angrily, leaving Draco to wonder what on earth he had said wrong.

Time passed, and Draco found a picture in an old box of his family. It was taken when he was still a toddler, quite some time before Draco's memory span. Narcissa and Lucius were squatting next to little Draco, and all of them were laughing at the camera.

Draco felt a tear leak out of the corner of his eye, and then it was time to go to the Christmas party at Harry and Ginny's house. He spent most of the time there, however, drinking eggnog in a corner of the house. As fate would have it, he ran into Hermione yet again, and she took the opportunity to pick up on where they had left off.

"Have you gone home yet?" asked Hermione. Draco frowned at her perseverance, which should be annoying but turned out to be a little annoying. "I still don't understand why you don't go home, Malfoy," she said. "Don't tell me you don't miss the manor, because I won't believe you."

"It's cold there," he said quietly, downing his glass of eggnog in one gulp.

Hermione scoffed. "It's not any warmer at that stupid flat of yours," she replied. "The fireplace in your manor isn't going to light itself, Malfoy. You need to go start the fire first."

Glaring at the now-empty glass in his hand as if it had offended him, Draco refused to respond. Hermione also remained silent, until Draco finally lost it. "What if I don't want to go home?" he said angrily, lying through his teeth and knowing it. "I don't need a home; all I need is a roof over my head, and I have that now. I don't need anything, and I especially do not need to be reminded of the fact that I no longer have any family to share a home with."

Far from scaring Hermione enough to get her to drop the topic, Draco's outburst only prompted her to match him both in decibel and cutting remarks. "Well, I think you're just cowardly," she said, leaning forward with a glint in her eyes Draco had seen once or twice before. "You don't dare to find a new family."

By now, they were really close, and Draco was really drunk. Of course, intoxication was no excuse for what Draco did next, because he knew exactly what he was doing. Angered by Hermione's accusation that he was cowardly, Draco made the third important decision of his life – to lean over and kiss Hermione squarely on the lips.

Draco supposed that it was only a matter of time before he did that. All the tension that had been built up in school just continued accumulating – they bickered when they were in the Order, they bickered when they were preparing for the wedding, and they bickered even when they were just hanging out as friends. There needed to be some kind of release.

And Draco really did like Hermione. It would be a stretch to say that he had liked her since their days in school, for that was most certainly not true. He did, however, admire Hermione as a person, even if he insulted her to hide that fact. His admiration for her had grown during their days in the Order, because of her tenacity and ability to stand up to obstacles. But it was only after the war, on that day when she had appeared in his flat, that he started seeing her in a different light.

He had suspected that she had always been hinting that she wanted him to ask her out, but Draco – as has been mentioned before – was rather stupid as a person, and without all of Hermione's urging, he would never have made any move.

What surprised him was the fact that she kissed back. Draco hadn't expected that. He was so, extremely glad that he had finally decided to take the final step forward. Because it all went uphill frown there.

_Where is home?_

Now, Draco knew the answer. He was, under the orders of his wife, back in the Malfoy Manor again. The place that Draco remembered to be a cold, dark and echoey home was no longer any of that. It was now a bright, cheery and utterly perfect home. Not that any physical addition had been made to the manor. Well, unless you counted the addition of one Hermione Granger.

Draco battled with the stove, complaining about his wife's insistence that they have one meal cooked without magic every week, but smiling to himself.

The door opened with a bang, and Hermione twirled in, arms full of groceries. She dumped them on the counter and Draco smiled as she kissed him on the cheek. Draco hugged her, filled with a peaceful kind of happiness he had been drowning in ever since the day he had kissed Hermione. They went out for an entire year, occasionally visiting the manor because Hermione kept bringing him there, until Draco finally came to terms with the fact that he really did miss his childhood house.

But while it was his childhood house, it was now a completely new home from the one he had grown up in. This new one was home to a new family, and Draco was free and loved in the new Malfoy Manor. He had his wife to warm the desolate building for him, and that home would forever be there for him.

Oh, and remember how Draco was, at one point in time, 'not ready to procreate just yet'? Draco grinned cheekily as he rubbed Hermione's stomach, thinking of the little life inside her. _Problem solved._

It felt so nice to be home.


End file.
